


Dance of the Faerie Princess

by Bunnyhops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, HP: EWE, Humor, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:55:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7921324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnyhops/pseuds/Bunnyhops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has led a secret double life... as a ballerina.  Her big debut is coming up.  What will her friends think?  Will she find love in the process?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

Clap. Clap. Clap.

“No, child. Try it again.”

She stopped and walked back to the center of the room.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The slow rhythmic clapping continued throughout Hermione’s adagios. Finally, sweaty and fatigued, she finished with the smooth steps of the preparations for pirouettes. “Good, Hermione, very nice,” her ballet master said with no emotion, but she knew he was pleased. He didn’t offer empty compliments in the name of positive reinforcement.

“Thank you, sir.”

She made her way to the locker room to unbind her hair, change shoes and put on lounge pants. Her pink tights and black leotard would not do for walking back to Hogwarts.

The sessions she spent away from Harry and Ron, the stresses from hunting for, finding, and destroying Horcruxes and helping Harry to cope with everything, had been her saving grace.

She’d missed ballet terribly in the ten months she’d been unable to attend sessions or perform during their hunt. Leaves, mud, and soft ground were very difficult to practice a grand rond de jambe.

The war was over, but there were still Death Eaters at large. Many of the students, to include the war heroes and the not-so-heroic, had returned for their last year at Hogwarts. There was a tentative peace between the houses; the war had left its mark on all the students and faculty, both physically and emotionally. Everyone recognized the need for unity.

She pulled off her ballet slippers and lovingly tucked them inside her bag. She’d been taking ballet since she’d turned three. Her ballet master’s all thought she had real talent, but since she’d received her letter to Hogwarts, her time studying ballet had been reduced. Her parents, in cooperation with one of her previous ballet masters, had pleaded her case to Headmaster Dumbledore.

In response, Dumbledore had found a wizard ballet master, under who she now studied. She was allowed to attend ballet three times per week in the evenings. No one knew with the exception of her Head of House, the Headmaster, Hagrid and Severus Snape. The secrecy was due to her increasing popularity with the local ballet companies and the previous state of affairs with the return of he-who-shall-not-be-named. Ballet was a popular, if rather restricted, form of pureblood entertainment.

Once or twice per year, since her second year, her presence was requested for a formal ballet production.   The first two years, she would play a small part in the back of a symphony of ballerina’s, waving a rose while the prima ballerina would prance, skip and twirl gracefully performing the slow movements and enlèvements. The supported movements would exhibit the ballerinas grace, line and perfect balance while executing pirouettes and arabesques.

As Hermione got older, her parts became more important, and her location closer to the front of the stage. This year, she was the prima ballerina.

Her normal escort was late, so she decided to start walking.

Voldemort was dead, but the prejudice lingered along with those willing to act upon it; she was a war heroine, a Muggle-born, and one of Harry Potters best friends; essentially, a target.

As she walked, she remembered the ballets.

She’d never seen any of the pureblood families with which she was familiar, sitting in the audience. She knew they went; she’d heard Malfoy and Nott bragging about attending, during potions or other places where both houses had to endure each other’s presence.

She glanced about for her escort, Severus Snape.

Professor Snape and Hermione had established a rather curious acquaintance. It was amicable, almost teasing in nature. She enjoyed his company very much.

She’d been witness to Voldemort’s betrayal of him; sending Nagini to drain the life from his body. Once Ron and Harry had left near-screaming from the shrieking shack, Hermione had jumped into action. Essence of Dittany, specially brewed venom antidote, Bezoar, and blood replenishing potion had been force fed to the snarky Professor. After he’d swallowed, she’d shoved a Portkey in his hand, whisking him away to the infirmary and into the capable hands of Madam Pomfrey.

She frowned. He usually met her at the door.

“Miss Granger?” The dulcet tones of Severus Snape whispered across her skin with the breeze. She smiled. “Professor. I thought you forgot about me.”

He didn’t react to her statement. “My apologies, Miss Granger.” He didn’t elaborate.

She nodded, and only pressed the issue a little bit. “Are you alright?” she asked quietly.

His dark eyes sparkled with the rising moon. “I am.”

They walked a little ways in silence until he spoke. “How was your practice?”

“Good. My knee is feeling better. I wish I were more flexible.” She shrugged.

“I’ve seen your ballets, Miss Granger. I don’t believe you have anything over which to worry.”

She blushed and rushed to change the subject. Her success as a ballerina made her slightly uncomfortable. It was something she loved and something she was good at; she didn’t need the accolades, but it was nice that he thought so.

“Thank you,” she said.

His next words had her rolling her eyes. “Hagrid,” he drawled distastefully, “is asking to accompany me for your escort yet again.”

Hermione giggled, but didn’t respond. “If you’re going to have a pet, Miss Granger, please have the courtesy to train him accordingly.”

“He’s just lonely, Professor. He means no harm.”

Severus stopped and looked at her. “He is harboring inappropriate feelings towards a student. It should be nipped in the bud.” His succinct manner of speaking and the emphasis on the last four words gave her pause. She wrinkled her nose and blinked her eyes. “You think he has a crush on me?”

Severus sighed, long and loud. “Ignorance does not become you, Miss Granger.”

They’d reached the gates by then, both stopping for Severus to dismantle the locking spell. Once the gate opened, the two gawked in surprise at the half giant waiting for them.

Hagrid was rocking from heel to toe, fidgeting with his beard. He still wore poorly made ill fitted clothes, only tonight; he was wearing a large orange flower on his lapel. He perked when he saw Hermione. “’ermione. P’fesser Snape,” he greeted with a tilt of his head.

“Hagrid,” they said in unison; one voice lilting with feminine youth and the other dark and rich.

“erm… How was yer dancin’,” he asked, searching for something to say.

She smiled at him; a tolerant smile that a parent would give to a child not their own. “It went well, Hagrid, thank you for asking.”

Hagrid nodded and fell into step with Severus, once the tall brooding man began walking again. “I kin take our ‘ermione back to the dorms, P’fesser Snape, sir.”

Severus cast a sideways glance at the burly figure and said, “I’ll accompany _our_ Hermione, if you don’t mind.”

“a course, P’fesser. I was only…” Severus cut off Hagrid’s sentence with a stern look reserved for firsties.

An awkward silence surrounded the three as they neared the large double doors that led to the main corridor of the castle. “’ermione, wen’s yer big day?” he asked.

The London Ballet Company for Wizards and Witches was holding a charity event and Hermione was starring; it wasn’t publicized with her as prima ballerina, only the title of the ballet: The Dance of the Faery Princess.

She was nervous and excited and didn’t like talking about it. Hermione pursed her lips and Severus frowned. _The oaf doesn’t know when to shut up_ , he thought. “Coming up here, shortly,” she answered.

Hagrid continued, much to the irritation of one Severus Snape. “I’m sure ‘arry n Ron can’t wait to see you dance!”

The thought of Harry and Ron seeing her perform made her stomach twist. She stopped abruptly, making Hagrid almost trip over Severus’ feet, which made Severus growl and push at Hagrid. “They don’t know, Hagrid. Please don’t say anything,” she pleaded.

Hagrid frowned. “Well, why not? They’re yer friends!”

Hermione swallowed not sure how to respond. Ron had always made fun of her when she would perform little movements if they were standing around or just waiting; a plié here and an arabesque there. He’d said all her ‘twirling about’ looked like convulsions. As much as she hated to admit it, Ron just didn’t understand the discipline and balance required for ballet. Once past the pre-ballet stages that little girls often enjoyed, it was a serious profession; one lot with practice, critique and refinement.

It was a form of appreciation in which Ron could never recognize the worth.

In any way, Ron barely spoke to her now. After the battle, he’d pressed the issue of marriage and babies. The last thing she wanted was to have children with someone who couldn’t understand why she wanted to live her life; be young. She didn’t want to be alone and wouldn’t mind having a companion, but she wanted to see the world and live without fear of death; right now just wasn’t the time. Not to mention the fact that she was still a virgin and nothing Ron did stirred any type of desire inside of her; at least, none that resembled what she’d read in her novels.

Logically, she knew that no prince would sweep her off her feet, but she wanted someone who could occupy her mind and make her feel desirable, both intellectually and physically.

Harry rarely spoke to her. She’d noticed him watching her much of the time, he hardly spoke. He’d withdrawn and was now completely entranced with Luna Lovegood, or so she assumed. Hermione was fairly certain that Luna would accept her as a ballerina, but Harry had been critical of her as well. He’d started acting strange during their seventh year on the run.

The night Ron left; Harry had turned up the music and danced with her. At first, she’d been grateful for his touch and comfort, but when the song ended he hadn’t let go of her. He’d squeezed tighter and buried his face in her hair. Thinking he needed some comfort as well, she hugged him back with equal enthusiasm. A second later, he’d murmured her name and tried to kiss her. She’d begged off and pulled first shift for guard duty outside the tent.

They were friends, but now that things had come to an end, he hadn’t spoken to her except to say hello and ask where she’d been.

“Perhaps, we shall respect Miss Grangers wish for discretion, Hagrid.”

Severus was not one to mince words and his accompanying scowl sent Hagrid stuttering and agreeing. The giant left a moment later, muttering something about feeding a hippogriff.

Severus walked her to the staircase and bowed. “I trust you can find your way from here, Miss Granger?”

She smiled. “Yes. Thank you, Professor.”

He nodded and spun around with a billow of black robes.

**OoO**

Cormac McClaggen first noticed Hermione their fourth year. He’d sat down at his usual spot in the center of the Gryffindor table for breakfast when she’d walked in. The summer had been good to her. Long and lithe, her body had matured and her hair had tamed, though still thick, it was shiny and no longer resembled a birds’ nest.

There was something in the way she moved; graceful and fluid and feminine. She was also mouthy and stubborn, but they all held some of that characteristic. It was practically inherent in all Gryffindors.

He’d tried talking to her, but his words had always come out arrogant and condescending.   She’d rebuffed him on more than one occasion.

Finally, sixth year, he’d openly pursued her.

The beginning of that year, he’d spotted her at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and winked. She was fingering a love potion they were selling. She lowered her lashes demurely and blushed. At the time, he’d thought it was the prettiest thing he’d ever witnessed.

At Hogwarts, he’d started small, smiling and teasing with her; it hadn’t gone over well. He’d ended up being on the receiving end of her temper twice and then once more, when in an effort to even the playing field, she’d cast a Confundus Spell and he’d nearly fallen off his broom during Quidditch try-outs.

She was also constantly surrounded by Potter and Ron Weasley, the boor! This made it near impossible to get her alone in order to make her see him as a suitor rather than an annoyance.

There had been one brief moment of victory when she’d initiated a conversation and asked him to accompany her to the Slug Clubs Christmas dinner. Stupidly, he’d bragged about this small bit of information to his friends as well as Roger Davies, and unbeknownst to them, Draco Malfoy and Greg Goyle had overheard and immediately joined in the conversation.

Cormac was surprised to find out that although Draco was who he was, he had been lusting after the lovely Muggle-born as well, but had very different views on how to treat her. Cormac, hearing about Draco’s reputation as a ladies man, had leaned in to listen intently to the Slytherin’s advice.

He didn’t know why he’d committed that particular misdeed. Cormac was never lacking in female companionship either. He was tall, well defined, and broad-shouldered; with soft sandy blond curls that could provoke even the most inhibited witch to want to run her fingers through them. His eyes had always been complimented by witches, mums and their daughters alike; they were a sharp blue-green, which resembled the color of the sea. He knew that he had the whole package: plump kissable lips; a deep rumbling voice; and an intellectual foundation that allowed him to converse about many different topics. The result was that witches flocked to him.  

He had the fourth highest grade average in Hogwarts; the first being Hermione and the other two: Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. Ravenclaws held the other six spots for the top ten students.

Draco’s advice was off putting and didn’t sit well with Cormac, but he’d listened.

“Assertive and take-charge,” Malfoy had said. “Granger’s no push over. You need to show her who the Alpha is.”

Cormac had taken that and attempted to kiss Granger into submission. He’d tried to guide her with a firm arm around her waist and then pull her into a corner when the conversation lulled.

He’d learned the hard way that those were the wrong moves. She’d hidden from him the remainder of the night. He thought he’d spotted her behind a curtain, but when he walked back there, he’d found only Potter.

Trying to cover up his disappointment and regret, he’d reacted with arrogance while tossing a bit of food in his mouth. He’d further humiliated himself when all at once, the food started to make its way back out and Professor Snape tore open the curtain to catch Cormac and Harry Potter ‘talking’. Cormac then promptly vomited on his Professors shoes.

Severus had ‘dismissed’ Cormac and the wizard had left shortly thereafter, without saying good-bye to Hermione.

He’d realized later, she’d done it to make the Weasel jealous. He hadn’t pursued her after that discovery. He spent some time licking his wounds and shagging every witch in Ravenclaw and half of Slytherin.

**OoO**

Hermione bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time. When she reached the hallway, she dropped her bag on the floor and lifted up onto her tip toes and performed a modified attitude, stretching her leg behind her while reaching her arms in front of her. Hermione held her position for a count of ten, then brought her arms up to circle above her head careful to keep her hands in a relaxed pose.

Once she was satisfied, she took two quick steps and leaped in the air with her legs outstretched like a mid-air split. With perfect posture and body forward, she touched the hard flat of the hallway, picked up her bag and walked the rest of the way to the Head’s dorm.

Just before she reached the portrait, she heard his name called and turned to catch his eyes.

**OoO**

Cormac was on his way up to the common room, when he saw her traipsing up the steps. He stood, breathless, watching her swan-like grace and when she jumped in the air, he thought he’d died and gone to heaven.

Her elegant posture and fluid motion, with her dark hair flowing behind her, made his skin erupt in goose flesh. He was certain he hadn’t heard her feet touch ground either.

He was startled out of his trance. “McClaggen!”

Cormac watched her turn to look at him. Their eyes met before she blushed and whispered her password to the portrait, disappearing inside.

He turned back to the person now standing next to him. “Captivating, isn’t she?” Draco asked his tone smirking and self-righteous.

Cormac didn’t respond, so Draco continued. “She comes in at this time three or four times per week; always wearing those frumpy sweat pants and loose shirt.”

The Gryffindor made a noise resembling a growl and turned to fully face the Slytherin. “And you would know this how?”

Draco grinned with evil mischief. “I found it curious when I spotted Professor Snape walk the lovely Miss Granger to the stairs. So, I did some recon. She leaves at precisely 4:30 Monday, Wednesday, and Friday with her pink bag slung over a shoulder like a vagabond and returns in the company of our Potions Professor at seven.

“She sometimes goes out on Thursdays without the bag, but dressed the same.” He stopped to look Cormac in the eyes then and lowered his voice for the next statement. “She’s always escorted by Professor Snape.”

Cormac clenched his jaw. “You don’t think there’s something going on, do you?” He knew it was a mistake the second it left his lips, but the words seemed to tumble forward without any direction otherwise from his brain.

Draco inhaled and stepped back with a smirk. “Don’t know, but I bet father would find it interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

Cormac regained his senses and glared at Malfoy. “Don’t go starting rumors, Malfoy,” he sneered.

Draco shrugged and began walking down the stairs towards the dungeon. “Of course not, McClaggen. Malfoys are above such plebian exercise.”

Once Draco left, Cormac looked at the empty hallway then shook his head and walked to the tower.


	2. Twisted Knee

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

Hermione turned back in time to see Cormac McClaggen watching her. She was awarded with a perfect view of his penetrating eyes and set jaw. He was very masculine and she knew from experience that he smelled nice, too.

On occasion, she still felt guilty about the Christmas dinner fiasco sixth year, but in her defense, he’d been all over her like white on rice. They hadn’t really known each other and she wanted to have a conversation, not be mauled by a teenage boy with an overactive libido and lofty sense of himself.

Yes, she asked him under false pretense, but they could have been friends if he hadn’t ruined it.

She whispered, “Unity,” and entered the Head’s dorm.

Closing the portrait door, she swung around to face Ron and Harry pacing angrily and Blaise, the Head Boy, sitting on the couch, reading. “Sorry, Hermione, they wouldn’t stop pounding on the door. The portrait started shouting at me,” Blaise apologized.

They’d become friends over the summer and were relieved to find that they would be sharing a dorm with each other and not someone intolerable.

Blaise’s familiar use of her given name effectively ended the pacing.

When the two stopped to glare at the handsome Italian, Hermione interrupted sarcastically, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“He called you Hermione, ‘Mione,” Ron accused.

She furrowed her brows. “That **_is_** my name, Ronald.”

Ron sputtered and clenched his fists. She tilted her head innocently.

Hermione had learned a lot about the two; impulsive and over-reactive, they would turn the tables and lay the blame on her doorstep whenever they felt the need to rid themselves of guilt. She’d been their doormat far too often, and so put an end to it over the summer. That, coupled with the events in the past, led to the current climate of the three not engaging in every day conversation.

Harry hadn’t said anything, only watched her. She could feel and see his eyes roaming her slight form, burning a path from her lips to her chest, resting at the crux of her thighs. It made her shift with unease.

“Potter, do stop ogling. You’re obviously making her uncomfortable,” Blaise chided casually without looking up from his book.

She smiled his way. _Bless his pristine white socks_ , she thought.

He’d caught her smile of thanks from his periphery and lifted the corner of his mouth to acknowledge her.

Harry’s eyes snapped back to Hermione’s. “You disappear in the evenings and we want to know what you’re doing,” Harry said. His voice had deepened and his syntax had slowed, making him sound more menacing than he really was.

Before she responded, the portrait swung open. “Gentlemen… and lady,” Draco greeted loudly with his arms spread in a welcoming fashion, or more like a ‘here I am, bow to me’ fashion.

Blaise and Draco were best friends and so had shared the password with Hermione’s consent. She rolled her eyes at his theatrics.

“Ferret,” Harry greeted.

Draco clucked his tongue as he plopped down on the couch next to Blaise. “Such manners, Potty. All that time spent under the staircase really didn’t do you any favors.”

“Sod off, Malfoy!” Ron hissed.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and counted to ten. “Harry, my whereabouts are none of your concern. I’ll assume your inquiry is because you are worried and not because you want to keep tabs on me for selfish reasons. Know that I am safe and happy.” With that, she moved towards the door and opened it. “Have a nice evening,” she said, dismissing them as politely as she could.

The two looked back at Malfoy and Zabini and then at each other before passing through the door way. Draco was smiling arrogantly.

Ron passed her without a word, but Harry stopped. He was two inches from her. She could feel his body heat. He lifted a hand to touch her face. She reared back and heard Blaise’s book snap shut.

Harry’s green eyes never left hers. “Hermione…” he whispered.

She knew Blaise had stood in preparation of her defense and pressed her back against the wall. “No, Harry,” she asserted firmly.

His hand dropped and his jaw clenched again. “You can’t keep secrets from me, Hermione.”

She stood her ground, not willing to concede. “Good-bye, Harry. Give Luna my love.”

At the reminder of Luna, Harry straightened and walked out the door.

The door shut and Draco clapped. “Nicely done, Granger! I’m so proud,” he said, placing the flat of his hand over his heart.

She huffed in humor. “Honestly, Malfoy.”

“Hermione?”

She stopped and looked back at Blaise. “Where _do_ you go?”

Her soft brown eyes met the curious gray of Draco’s and intense blue of Blaise’s. She inhaled. “Ballet,” she said and walked to her room, shutting herself in for her nightly ablutions.

They turned to each other with raised eyebrows, mouthing ‘ballet’.

**OoO**

Hermione brushed her teeth while thinking about the curious exchange in the hallway with Cormac. He was handsome, she thought and she knew he was smart, but why did he need to regale everyone with his tales of conquering the female population?

When their eyes had met, she’d felt a shiver run down her spine. She wasn’t sure why, but it was there. Then Harry and Ron had ruined her excited, but confusing anticipation with their demands of her whereabouts.

OoO

The next morning at breakfast, she sat down at the table beside Cormac. It was the only seat available. He scooted over a little to give her room and then pushed a goblet of pumpkin juice her way without looking at her. It was all very… routine; giving her a familiar feeling. It warmed her, inside and out.

He’d fought courageously during the battle. Even saved her from a stray hex by sending a hastily cast Petrificus Totalus, hitting its mark square in the chest. He hadn’t stayed around to talk; instead he ran passed her to another fight. She hadn’t properly thanked him and made a mental note to do just that.

“Good morning, Cormac,” she greeted with a smile. _He smelled delicious_ , she thought and fought the urge to inhale deeply with her eyes closed.

“Granger.”

She frowned. His tone was curt and he hadn’t looked at her. She decided to try again. “Do you have any plans for today?” she asked.

He stopped chewing and looked at her. “You mean besides classes?”

She stretched her lips. “Right. Classes. Yes, besides those.”

He was chewing again. “No.”

She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so interested. He’d always irritated her with his constant bad jokes, insulting teases, and arrogant displays of inflated ego.

She took her fork and stabbed at a potato.

Cormac wondered what the potato did to offend her.

She swallowed. “What about after classes?”

He hid his smirk. “Why, Granger, is there something you want me to do for you?” he asked. His question was innocent enough if it weren’t for the way he was looking at her, devouring her with those gorgeous blue-green eyes of his, but then they turned cold. “Perhaps, you want to make Weasley jealous? Or someone else? Potter? …Snape?” he sneered with hard expression.

She furrowed her brows at his suggestion that she would want to make Professor Snape jealous. “No? No one to manipulate?” he asked snidely, drawing her out of her confusion.

She turned to focus on her breakfast. She was ashamed, but she wasn’t about to admit guilt.

Gripping her fork so tightly, her knuckles whitened. “I was going to offer to shine Professor Snape’s shoes once more. They still have the stink of vomit.”

He dropped his fork and stood. He looked at Seamus and Dean. “See you later.”

Before he left, he glanced towards the faculty table. Professor Snape was watching the exchange. Cormac grunted in dissatisfaction then walked briskly towards the exit.

Seamus and Dean focused on Hermione. “What’dya say to ‘im, lass?” Seamus asked. He’d called her lass for the last four years. At first, she’d scolded him constantly, but now she just smiled at the endearment.

She harrumphed and muttered a quick, “Nothing.” Looking at her breakfast, she realized she’d lost her appetite.

When Hermione stood, she noticed Harry’s head was bent close to Luna’s whilst she spoke, but his eyes were on her.

**OoO**

Harry walked towards the lake, maligning Hermione in his mind. He wanted her; had wanted her, but she’d pushed him away. She was too good for him. She thought she was smarter than he was, but he had conquered the Dark Lord. He was the Chosen One. She’d done nothing but hold him back; tell him how wrong he was. If he hadn’t listened to her, they might have been able to save Sirius. He could have warned his godfather if he hadn’t been looking out for her.

Once he rounded the hill, he saw smoke billowing from Hagrid’s hut.

He knocked and smiled as Hagrid opened the door. “’arry! Wha’ brings ya?”

Harry shrugged. “Just walking.”

Hagrid led him inside and sat down. “Girl troubles?”

Harry nodded.

“Me, too.”

This surprised Harry. The only witch he’d ever seen Hagrid hold an interest in was the Headmistress from Beauxbatons. “What sorts of troubles, Hagrid?”

The half giant took a deep breath and shook his head. “I like this girl. She’s pretty an’ smart an’…” he shook his head again. “Wha’ do I do, ‘arry?”

Harry smiled. “Does she know?”

“Nah.”

“Tell her, Hagrid. Tell her how you feel.”

It seemed to be the thing Hagrid needed to hear. “Yer right, ‘arry!”

**OoO**

The next night, Hermione was getting ready to go to her ballet session. She walked down pulling on her normal loose fitting shirt, but not before Blaise and Draco saw her black form-fitting leotard. It hugged her breasts and followed the indent of her small waist.

Draco whistled as she tugged it down to rest over her hips. “Shut it, Malfoy,” she teased.

“You look good with your hair tied back, Granger. You should do that more often,” Draco complimented. She was about to whirl on him for being mean, but the look on his face told her he was serious.

She blushed and smiled at him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You probably shouldn’t expect that often. You’re still Granger, know-it-all swot, to me, Granger,” he said, making Blaise chuckle.

“Got it.”

The portrait announced that someone was at the door. Hermione opened it and stepped back in shock. “Hagrid,” she said, looking up at his hulking figure. “Is everything okay?”

Draco and Blaise had come to stand behind her, wondering if the visitor was indeed Hagrid.

“erm… I come ta walk ya to yer… erm, you know,” he whispered, leaning his head inside the now shrunken doorway. It made the three students lean back in response.

She felt mildly uncomfortable with the idea of Hagrid walking her to ballet. It was usually Professor Snape who met her at the gates.

She shifted from one foot to another and frowned. “Hagrid, Professor Snape usually meets me at the gates. Is he unable to escort me tonight?” she asked, hoping that her Professor had made some kind of arrangement with the man and that Hagrid wasn’t taking it upon himself to court her.

“No, uh, I jus’ thought …”

Suddenly, a deep voice coupled with purposeful foot falls sounded in the corridor. “Miss Granger, I will accompany you to Hogsmeade. Are you ready?” Severus asked, looking harried and annoyed.

Hermione didn’t know what to do. Her eyes bounced from Hagrid to Severus and back again. The truth was that she felt safer with Severus and she liked him more and she could talk to him without feeling awkward and… and, and, and. “I’m sorry, Hagrid, but it would be better if I stuck with Professor Snape. He was assigned this task and I wouldn’t want either of you to get into trouble for me.”

She watched, out of her peripheral vision, as Severus fought to keep from rolling his eyes.

Guilt assaulted her when Hagrid’s shoulders slumped and he nodded like he was expecting her rejection. He stomped away without a word.

Hermione and Severus waited until the heavy footsteps faded away.   She turned to pick up her bag and saw Draco shiver. “What?” she asked.

Blaise was wearing an expression of complete distaste. “Hagrid wants you. That’s… disturbing,” Blaise remarked.

Draco nodded and shivered again.

“Miss Granger,” Severus reminded, silently agreeing with the Head boy and the young Malfoy.

When they reached the gates to Hogwarts and passed the wards, Severus did something he rarely did: he laughed.

She was stunned.

It was a hardy laugh and it was infectious. She found herself giggling beside him.

He caught himself after a moment, brushing a tear from his eye. “Thank you, Miss Granger, I haven’t laughed like that in some time.”

Hermione couldn’t say anything. It was so out of character for him to …laugh, that she just remained smiling and continued walking.

**OoO**

Cormac rounded the corner in time to watch Professor Snape and Hermione exit the Head’s dorm together.

He couldn’t let it go. Cormac could sort of understand what she saw in their potions professor, but he couldn’t believe that she’d chosen Snape over him. He was smart, rich, pureblood, good looking… _very_ good looking, and he was her age. What more did she want? What did snape have that he didn’t?

According to Malfoy, Hermione would be gone for a few hours and he needed to blow off some steam. He didn’t know how long he’d been pacing back and forth, but all this pent up energy was driving him mad. He strode to the common room and yelled: “Who wants to play some Quidditch?”

Seven Gryffindor came out of nowhere ready for a game. Harry sent Dean to bang on the Hufflepuff’s door to get more players.

Cormac ran up to his bed and grabbed his face mask and shin guards, when he returned to the common room, it was empty. He huffed in humor and jogged out the door.

Approaching the double doors, he met Snape walking back inside. Cormac looked around for the small witch about who he fantasized. When he didn’t see her, his eyes snapped to the potions professor’s. “Where is she?”

Severus raised one eyebrow at the young man’s tone. “Where is who, Mr. McClaggen?”

Cormac puffed his chest. “Hermione. Where is she?”

Severus recognized worry when he saw it. “She is safe, Mr. McClaggen.” He watched the Gryffindor relax slightly and waited. He knew McClaggen wanted to ask another question and since he was feeling generous, he would allow it.

Cormac shifted and avoided eye contact, thinking that of all the professors he should ask; it was Professor Snape. Severus could see that Cormac was searching for the right words, wondering if he should ask or not.

“Ask your question, Mr. McClaggen,” Severus ordered his patience ebbing. _Bloody Gryffindors_. He couldn’t get away from them; never leaving him alone. They were attracted to him like magnets.

“Is – is she …taken?” Cormac felt stupid. He wanted to know if pining after her was fruitless or if, at some point, he could get his act together and make her see him as …something other than irritating.

“I wouldn’t know, Mr. McClaggen. Her romantic inclinations are none of my concern.”

“You mean, you two aren’t… uh…together?”

Severus physically reared back. It was a ludicrous thought, though he enjoyed Hermione’s conversation and truth be told, appreciated her graceful form during her ballets; he preferred his witches older and with a bit more meat on their bones. “No, Mr. McClaggen, we are not. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Cormac was left to his musings and a decidedly springier step.

**OoO**

“Miss Granger…” Severus was about to greet Hermione upon the start of their return, but noticed that she was limping. “Your knee?”

She nodded. “I was leaping into a rond de jambe en l'air, which is my working leg, after being opened to the second or fourth position à terre, was raised to a horizontal position with the toe on the level of the hip, but I landed wrong. I’ll wear a support brace and have Madam Pomfrey look at it.” She sighed and matched his pace as he slowed down for her.

They walked companionably for a short time. “You sounded like you were going to say something else, Professor.”

He cast a sideways glance at her. “I wondered about your …proclivities towards the male student body.”

She smirked. “Pardon?”

He seemed to bristle before he answered her question. He was clearly uncomfortable with speaking of such things. She wasn’t sure if it was the subject by itself or if it was the rather personal topic he was broaching _with her_ , but, either way, she was enjoying this immensely.

“Hagrid is quite taken with you, Miss Granger. Mr. Potter seems to be always watching you, interested in your every move. And then there is Mr. McClaggen…” She had perked up when Cormac’s name was mentioned.

“So Mr. McClaggen then?”

She blushed and shrugged. “I’m not sure. I want to talk to him. Get to know him better, but he won’t give me the time of day. He’s still angry at me about sixth year,” she huffed.

Curiosity got the better of him. “Sixth year?”

Hermione looked sheepish and picked invisible lint from her light colored cotton pants. “I was trying to get Ron’s attention. When he, Ron, started dating Lavender, I set to make him jealous by inviting Cormac to the Slug Club Christmas dinner.”

Severus’ eyebrows rose. “He vomited on my shoes,” he said in distaste, making Hermione giggle.

“I tried talking to him at breakfast this morning, but he just snapped at me. I don’t know what you’ve heard, Professor Snape, but I suspect it’s false. Cormac isn’t interested in me. …and Harry… I don’t know what’s going on with him. He tried to kiss me the night Ron left. I couldn’t do it. He’s never forgiven me for that.

“I think he just considered it another rejection by someone he loved, you know?”

He didn’t comment on her reasoning for Harry, but instead changed direction. “Do none of my Slytherins strike your fancy, Miss Granger?”

He was looking straight ahead, giving nothing away with his expression. “May I speak candidly, Professor?”

He snorted. “Do you ever speak artfully, Miss Granger?”

“Gryffindor,” she sang with a wide grin.

He rolled his eyes and bade her continue. “I really like Blaise and Draco. They’re witty, studious, attractive, and caring. I’m very glad I got to know them, but we couldn’t… I couldn’t… They sleep with anything wearing a short skirt, walking on two legs, Professor.”

She could have sworn that he stood just a little straighter, his chest a little bit puffier at this bit of information.

Once recovered from his bout of pride, he pointed out similarity between the gentlemen in discussion. “Forgive me, Miss Granger, for my observation, but Mr. McClaggen is no nun.”

She laughed. “Yes, he is rather rakish, isn’t he?”

They sobered as they neared the gates. Both wondered if Hagrid would be on the other side. He wasn’t, much to the relief of Hermione.

“Professor?”

He finished warding the gates and looked at her. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

His jaw twitched. “No.”

She was in this far. “Do you go out on dates?”

He scowled at her. “That is a very personal question and highly inappropriate.”

She pursed her lips. He was right, of course, which made his next statement strike down into speechlessness.

“Witches do not find me particularly attractive in character or appearance.” It was a quiet statement, but a powerful one.

“Do you want to get married and settle down, Professor?”

“At one time, I thought I did. Do you?”

They walked slowly along, letting the fresh scents of the earth and pine swirl around them. “Yes. I would like to find someone I connect with. I love the idea of being married, but I worry that my ideas are childish and unrealistic.

“My mum never seemed happy with my father. They didn’t talk or laugh with each other and I never saw them touch,” she said, remembering the way her parents would veer away from each other to keep from touching.

She looked up at her companion. It was dark. His hair encased his face in shadows. “You should call me Hermione if we’re to have conversations such as these, sir.”

“Perhaps.” He paused. “You’re wrong… Hermione, Mr. McClaggen is quite taken with you. I believe a conversation is in order to ease his fragile ego in regards to your intentions.”

She hadn’t responded, only absorbed his statement. They arrived at the double doors and Severus jutted his chin slightly, indicating she should look. It was Cormac. He was returning from playing Quidditch.

Severus watched her face soften.

His dark eyes shifted to Potter, who looked murderous. “Miss Granger, some parting advice.”

She nodded. “Don’t go anywhere alone with your Mr. Potter. Keep Mr. Zabini and Mr. Malfoy near. They are witty and caring as well as protective and smart.”

He opened the door and entered, while she stood perplexed by his words. “Granger, you gonna stand there all day?”

She hopped to the side. “No, sorry.”

Cormac opened the door and motioned for her to enter first. “Thank you,” she said.

Her bag felt heavy and she began to shift it from one shoulder to the other, but gasped in surprise when Cormac lifted it from her person and slung it over his shoulder.

“Oi, McClaggen! Pink looks good on you, mate!” one of the Hufflepuff wizards teased, making the others laugh.

Cormac grumbled, but continued to carry it for her. “Thank you, again,” she said.

“Why are you limping?” he asked.

“I twisted my knee.”

“How?”

She’d been keeping it a secret for so long that she wasn’t sure if she should tell him. In the end, wanting him to know won out. “Ballet.”

His eyebrows almost disappeared in his hair line. “You’re a ballerina.” It was a statement.

They were at the foot of the stairs, stopped and staring at each other. She noticed his eyes darken to a near turquois color. She felt like prey.

The idea of kissing a ballerina had his Quidditch pants tightening.

He just stared at her and she felt conflicted; wanting to run and wanting him to kiss her. She decided to keep moving and lifted her foot to take the step. Not expecting her knee to be so tight, she hissed in surprise at the discomfort; at least it sounded like a hiss to her ears.

Cormac was jarred out of his mini ballerina fantasy when she whimpered. He promptly shrunk his broom and Quidditch gear and shoved them in his pockets.

She watched him curiously until he bent down and swept her up bridal style and carried her up the never ending stair case.

After yelping, her small hands gripped his strong shoulders to hold on. Even after playing Quidditch, he smelled divine. He smelled masculine and virile.

After the first flight, she loosened her grip and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I might get heavy. Don’t want you dropping me,” she whispered.

He looked down at her, his lips a hairs-breath away from hers. “I won’t drop you, love.”

Her stomach flip-flopped and her heart fluttered. His voice was like warm fudge over cold vanilla ice cream.

“Oi, McClaggen!” Seamus called, taking stairs two at a time to catch up. When he reached the two, he realized he’d interrupted a moment. “Er, sorry, lass. Jus’ wanted to make sure, Cor partnered wit me fer potions tomorrow.”

Cormac agreed and Seamus left them to their intimate silence; running passed her portrait door to the Gryffindor common rooms. During which, Hermione had let her fingers crawl under his short sleeve jersey to wrap her hands around the muscles of his biceps.

She hadn’t realized they’d stopped. She met a smirking face and twinkling eyes. “Shall I put you down or let you continue to molest me?”

Hermione was about to answer, when a familiar voice came from the now open doorway. “I vote for molest. How about you, Blaise?”

“Definitely, molest,” came the voice from behind Draco.

Hermione huffed and looked at her pack mule – her very handsome, very sexy pack mule. “Thank you, Cormac, but I really should be going.”

He glared at the two grinning Slytherin. “Another time, then, love.” He gentle set her down and bent to kiss her hand.

He glared one more time and walked away to Draco wiggling his fingers good-bye.

Limping forward, Hermione braced herself against the wall. Draco frowned and stepped forward to sweep Hermione up for the second time that evening. “What happened?” Blaise asked fluffing a pillow on the couch, indicating Draco should put her there.

“I twisted my knee.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Obsession

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

Draco _Accio’d_ a small red heart-shaped pillow with messy white thread sewn into the side. He whispered a cooling charm and placed it gently on her knee. The witch and wizard looked at him humorously. “What? My mum gave it to me for bumps,” he explained defensively.

Blaise chuckled to himself and Draco glared. “I’ve seen the ratty blanket you sleep with, Zabini. So don’t act like your mum doesn’t spoil you.”

Blaise stopped chuckling and pursed his lips together.

Hermione felt like she had stepped into Bizarro world. They were mummy’s boys and here she thought Ron was the only one. She held the red heart pillow in place on her knee. It felt better already and would prevent swelling. She smiled in thanks at Draco, and then realized a moment later that they were both staring at her with an expectant expression. “What?” she asked.

“You must confess something, Granger. You know too much, so either you tell us something equally embarrassing or we cast a Silencing spell on you for the remainder of the school year.” Blaise nodded in agreement and then smirked. “Let’s just cast the Silencing spell anyway.”

Hermione whipped her head around to glare at him, but he chuckled at her instead of the desired effect of fear.

She shrugged. “I don’t know what to say,” she said.

“Didn’t your mum send you packing with some childhood memento?” Blaise asked.

Swallowing, she suddenly felt the burn of tears. “No,” she whispered and cast another cooling charm on Draco’s heart pillow.

Both wizards felt her shift in mood and decided to sit down so they could talk. Blaise remembered that Hermione never received owls and never received any packages. “Why don’t you receive owls?” he asked.

Hermione found this exceedingly embarrassing and wondered if she could trust these two Slytherin. “Everyone I interact with is here,” she said.

“Your mum and father don’t owl you?” Draco asked, finding it strange. His mum owled twice a week and his father Floo- called or visited often. He knew Blaise’s mum owled frequently as well.

“They don’t like owls.”

“You don’t talk to them?” Blaise asked, feeling sympathy for his co-Head. It explained why she was always there.

She shook her head. “They’re divorced. They moved to …umm.” She didn’t want to tell them that she’d altered their memories.

Draco, apparently, knew already. “Australia.”

Her eyes snapped to his and he nodded. “I heard your Potter talking.”

Furrowing her brows, she continued. “Right. When I found them again, mum was quite upset with me. She’d never cottoned to magic and was displeased that I chose to attend Hogwarts instead of a Muggle school. My father was very uncomfortable with the idea of me altering his memories and decided to cut ties with me.

“Mum likes that I’m in ballet. She’d always wanted to be a ballerina, but she had bad feet.”

Blaise interrupted her, “Your mother likes that you’re a ballerina, but dislikes that you’re a witch?”

She nodded. “That’s crazy! Being magical is far better than being a ballerina,” Draco exclaimed.

Hermione laughed. “I know! But I do love ballet.”

Getting back to the point, Blaise spoke again, “Okay, let’s try something else. Who was your first kiss?” he asked, hoping it was someone other than the Weasel.

“Viktor Krum.”

Both boys slumped in defeat. That wasn’t blackmailable.

“Most embarrassing sexual experience?” Draco asked.

She blushed and their mood soared. “I’m a virgin,” she mumbled.

Their faces fell. “You’re a virgin,” Draco flat-lined and looked over at Blaise. The fact that she was untouched was completely off limits to blackmail. It was a point of pride in the Pureblood society for witches to remain intact, especially now that it was so rare.

Blaise was frustrated. “There has got to be something, Hermione.” The expressions on their faces were pleading and slightly frustrated.

“You already know everything. I’m in ballet. I was Harry’s best friend. I don’t know what else there is, but I promise you, I won’t say a thing about your …heart pillow or your ratty blanket,” she said, looking at each of them.

She frowned a moment later when Blaise smiled evilly. “What?” she asked suspiciously.

“You fancy McClaggen.”

Draco grinned and Hermione paled. “I – I…”

“Is this recent?” Draco asked, knowing it was true. Hermione would’ve never let him carry her up the stairs if she wasn’t sweet on the tall wizard. Mentally, Draco tilted his head. Hermione wasn’t warm and welcoming like many other Gryffindor. She could be standoffish and overly confident in her knowledge, so the fact that she let him pick her up, even if just to carry her to the sofa, was testament to her growing trust in him.

He felt warm at his assessment and wanted to smile, proud of himself for being good enough for her to trust and he was pretty sure she liked him as human being as well.

Blaise broke him out of his reverie. “What’s got you all –glowy?”

Draco didn’t know what to do for a moment. He decided reacting with irritation was the way to go. “Glowy? Is that a word, Zabini, or did you coin that term yourself?”

Hermione, as if reading his mind, smiled at him and stared at him with soft brown eyes; eyes that confirmed what he had been thinking.

She answered his question a moment later. “Yes, recent. I’m not sure what happened really. I mean, I’ve always thought him handsome, but Ron never had anything good to say about him and then Cormac, himself, never seemed to own an ounce of humility; I didn’t give him a second look.

“Then the other day… I don’t know. I’d like to talk to him, get to know him better.” She looked at them. “I would like to flirt with him.” This last statement made them smile: a project!

“Subtle flirting or overt flirting?” Blaise asked already knowing.

“Subtle, but not too subtle. What if he doesn’t take hints well?”

“Cormac’s a sharp one, not like your… Not like Potty and the Weasel,” Draco corrected.

**OoO**

“It din’t work, ‘Arry!” Hagrid sobbed.

Harry was quite surprised when Hagrid found him coming back from Quidditch. They were now sitting in front of Hagrid’s hut by the pumpkin patch while Hagrid wiped large tears from his cheek.

“Well, what do you want to do, Hagrid? Let her go or keep trying?” Harry asked.

Hagrid stopped sobbing to look at his friend. “I wan-ta keep tryin’,” he declared.

Harry nodded his head. “Find out what she likes and learn it, or better yet, ask her for help!” Harry was quite proud of this piece of advice. It sounded like a marvelous idea; an idea, which Harry thought to employ as well.

“Is that how ye got Luna?” Hagrid asked breaking Harry out of the plan he was forming.

“No,” he said sharper than intended. “I mean, no, we were friends before and it grew from there.”

Truth was that Harry and Luna had had a one off after the Battle at Hogwarts. She had ended up pregnant and he had talked her into terminating the pregnancy. His guilt prevented him from breaking it off with her. She wasn’t the witch with whom he wanted to start a family.

Hagrid nodded sagely. “Okay, mate?” Harry asked.

“a course, ‘Arry. Thanks!”

**OoO**

Severus watched as Potter walked back to the double doors with a pensive expression. It put him on edge. He knew that look: obsession. He’d certainly seen it enough times over the course of his life. He’d seen it in his father first. The way that he’d looked at Eileen Prince; it was something akin to love, fear, and anger all mixed into one troubled emotion.

He’d recognized it several times after that, even once staring back at himself in the mirror as he was thinking of Lily. He’d loved her with his entire being; feared that she would leave him and never talk to him again; angry with her that she didn’t love him back and anger with himself that he felt love and fear. Obsession, followed quickly by rage and then guilt were the stages of this recipe for disaster. His father had killed his mother. He’d abused her for years, but the last time was too much for her to take and she’d slipped away.

Severus had almost hit Lily in a fit of rage, but caught himself at the last minute. He’d ruined their relationship anyway the next day. He went to apologize and ended up calling her a Mudblood.

The Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore, Rodolphus Lestrange. They had all fallen victim to obsession, and now Potter wore it. He would end up hurting the object of his focus if he weren’t careful.

Severus decided to make sure that Zabini and Malfoy knew not to leave her unattended for long periods of time. Potter couldn’t be trusted.

**OoO**

Hermione looked around to an empty dorm. She was still sitting on the couch with her feet up and Draco’s pillow cooling her knee. Blaise gave her a book to read, and promised to bring back dinner for her. They’d left shortly after that.

The portrait turned and faced Hermione. “Dear, it’s Mr. Potter. Shall I allow him entrance?”

“Yes, please.” She closed her eyes, giving herself a mental pep-talk for keeping a cool head.

The portrait door swung open and Harry walked in. “Hey,” he greeted with his hands in his pockets and his eyes downcast.

“Hey,” she replied.

He came to stop in front of her and frowned. “What happened?”

“I twisted my knee.   Draco gave me a cool pillow to keep down the swelling.”

Something shadowed his green eyes for a moment, but then faded. “How did you twist your knee?”

“Harry, why are you here?” her tone was curious and tired, but not angry.

He sighed and sat down on the coffee table. “I’m sorry… for everything.”

His voice was sincere, but something was off. “What is everything?” she asked, wondering if he actually knew why he was apologizing.

Harry eyes snapped to hers. They were angry, but it only lasted briefly.

He wasn’t sorry for wanting her. He wasn’t sorry for loving her. He was sorry about his approach. “I shouldn’t have come in demanding things from you. I’m sorry for not talking to you after we got back to routine. I miss you. I want to know what’s going on. I want to be part of your life, Hermione.”

She smiled and she felt the burn of tears. “Thank you, Harry.” Hermione reached across the short distance and grasped his hand. He fell to his knee and hugged her tightly.

It lasted longer than she was comfortable with, but when she tried to push him away, he held on tighter. “Harry?” she mumbled into his shoulder.

“Hmmm?”

She huffed in humor, thinking he was just happy. “You can let me go now.”

He sighed again and reluctantly pulled away. “So, what happened?”

“Ballet. I was practicing and landed the wrong way.”

His eyes widened. “That’s where you go? Ballet?”

She nodded.

“Can I go with you next time?” he asked.

He’d apologized and she felt like they would get through this rough patch in their friendship, but no one watched her practice. She’d even shoo’d her mum out when Evelyn Granger had wanted to stay and watch.

It was easy to operate under times of stress: war, production ballet, exams; where she was instrumental to achieving a successful goal, but not the sole focus of attention. She was exceedingly nervous about her up and coming role in Dance of the Faerie Princess.

She made a mental note to ask Professor Snape for some meditation techniques.

Harry had been lost in his own world while she mulled over his question. She was small, fine boned and thin; her heart shaped face was cherubic and innocent. Her intellect only made her more attractive to him. Luna was smart, but she wasn’t logical and she tended to be flighty. Though, before they decided not to have a child, she had seemed much more light-hearted.

She broke him out of his reverie by clearing her throat. “Ummm, thank you for showing interest, but I would feel strange if you went. I-I focus better if it’s just me and my ballet master, you know?” She really hoped he would understand.

No such luck.

His smile faded and she could see his jaw twitch. “You’ve never had any trouble focusing with me around before. Why now?”

She blinked and swallowed nervously. “It’s only ever been me and my ballet master. I would prefer it to remain that way.” Her voice was soft, but assertive.

She could see his green eyes harden and then shift. He took a deep breath and murmured something under his breath. “How long have you been learning ballet?” he asked his voice a little too forced; a little too casual.

“Most of my life.”

And like someone slapping him in the forehead, he realized that all those times they’d thought she was studying in the library, she’d been practicing her ballet. He nodded. “Why didn’t you tell us?” The us part adding Ron.

“Professor Dumbledore thought it safer if we limited the people who knew. We didn’t want to worry you.”

“Ron?” he asked, wondering why she hadn’t told Ron.

She didn’t feel that it was right to share her embarrassment over Ron’s disdain for anything Hermione as well as her misgivings about him being able to actually keep her secret. “Same reason,” she answered.

Warm brown eyes followed the movements of the wizarding worlds declared savior. He ran his fingers through his hair and was currently frowning and pacing. He was upset. “Snape knew, Dumbledore knew. Who else?”

“Professor McGonagall, Professor Lupin, Hagrid, and Auror Moody.”

He smirked at her propriety. She’d never just referred to them by their sir names, always with their title. “I want to see you,” he repeated.

“No,” came the response.

He stopped and the way he was looking at her; like a spoiled child would after his mum said no to another cookie, made long suppressed emotions bubble up inside of her: anger, disappointment, hurt feelings, frustration – all directed at him.

She swallowed and pushed them down.

He recited, in his head, the reason for him being here. _Show interest in what she’s interested in_.

“I’m trying to show interest in you, Hermione, but you’re not making it easy!” he all but yelled.

Wide eyes and an open jaw was her response. She blinked and clicked her mouth shut. “You’re _trying_ to show interest?” Closing her eyes and counting to ten, she pushed away the response that was eager to make his acquaintance.

“In the almost ten years we’ve known each other, you’ve not shown interest in me once, unless it was to tell me I was wrong or make sure I was with you. It was always for your benefit, never acting in friendship for me.

“You dismissed me, snapped at me, agreed with Ron when he ridiculed me and not once defended me.

“I stood by you through thick and thin and never left!” She swallowed a sob and blinked the burn of tears away.

“How dare you come in here and tell me that you’re _trying_ , but _I’m_ not making it easy for you. It was _never_ easy for me!” Hermione had turned her back on him and was now staring at the fire. Her fists were clenched and her magic was sparking around her hair, making it frizz.

She felt his hands on her shoulders and she tensed, but let him twist her around so that she faced him. Harry didn’t say anything, he just stared at her. She realized belatedly that his face was nearing hers. She reared back to late; his lips were on hers; wet and sloppy, he was trying to shove his tongue in her mouth.

Hermione struggled by moving her face back and forth and pushing on his chest to stop his advances. Her noises of malcontent and hot tears seemed to be of no consequence to Harry in his pursuit to make her his own.

The next thing she knew, she was being hugged and shushed by Draco and Blaise was standing over a bloodied Harry. The Italian wizard had punched the Great Harry Potter and broke his nose. Harry was screaming and Blaise barely looked out of breath.

“Oi! What the bloody hell, Zabini?” Harry screeched in a nasal tone, holding his nose and standing on wobbly legs.

Blaise was a bit more put out than he looked, because he wasn’t ready to speak yet. She felt the deep vibration of Draco’s voice through where her face was pressed against his chest. “You don’t take what’s not freely given, Potter.”

Harry repositioned his glasses and frowned. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Look at Hermione and tell me what you see,” Blaise said with more patience than he felt.

“She’s hugging Malfoy,” Harry said with disgust.

“She’s trembling and crying, you fucking moron,” Draco added.

Hermione patted his chest and sniffled. Pulling back to look up at him, she gave him a small smile. “I’m okay. Thank you.”

He nodded and slid to the side to give her some space. “So, what, Hermione, you’re fucking both of these… these… Death Eaters?!”

She stood and limped forward with rage in her eyes and hissed, “LangLok!”

Harry immediately felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth and no amount of pulling would unstick it. It was glued.

“Exa,” she whispered as Harry was grunting his displeasure and he felt himself being moved. It was as if a gentle, but persistent wind was pushing him out the door and into the hallway.

“Don’t come back, until you can apologize.” She followed his path, with a hobble.

His eyes narrowed and from the hallway, he said something, but it didn’t make any sense with his tongue glued to the top of his mouth. He stomped away.

Hermione was about to close the door and thank her rescuers, but her name was called and she poked her head out. What she saw stunned her to the core. “Oh…”

Hagrid walked up to her door, wearing his regular clothing, but around his waist was a pink tutu. He looked proud and hopeful.

Her eyebrows danced up into her hairline. “Uh, Hagrid?”

The fact that her voice was curious and no longer interrupted by sniffles and hiccups, gave Blaise and Draco leave to relax and walk to the door to see what Hermione saw.

Blaise squeezed her shoulder in an effort to refrain from the guffaw just under the surface and Draco’s jaw was hanging open in response to Hagrid’s attempt at courting.

Hermione looked up into the half giants eyes. “Why are you wearing a tutu?”

“Well, I though’ I’d learn more abou’ yer dancin’, ‘Ermione. You know, ge’ ta know ya better. This’s wha’ you wear, ain’t it?”

All three students remained staring at Hagrid not sure what to say or how to act. Laughing was clearly out of the question due to the grounds keeper’s seriousness and encouraging his interest was not something Hermione was on board with; both Blaise and Draco were certain that they would be hexed by her should they encourage it.

Just as Hermione was about to say something, Severus walked up to the group and looked at the four. Three were positively baffled and one was shifting nervously. Severus schooled his features, preventing him from making a caustic remark about the frilly pink tutu. A random thought entered his mind about how Hagrid had found a tutu large enough to fit him.

His eyes slid away from the offending pink article and focused on the three students. “Miss Granger, Mr. Potter is in the infirmary with a broken nose, a glued tongue and is possibly the victim of a Babbling hex, though I can’t be certain due to his tongue being… well, the situation.

“What do you know about this?”

She inhaled and he took in her red rimmed eyes, flushed cheeks, frizzy hair, and pink nose. He surmised that she’d been crying recently.

Hermione’s eyes bounced from him to Hagrid and back before he understood and turned to face Hagrid. “Perhaps, you can assist with Mr. Potter’s recovery?” Severus asked. “But first, take off that …thing,” he ordered.

The large man nodded and smiled at Hermione. Her responding smile was uncertain at best.

Severus looked at the three and motioned, with his chin, for them to go inside the common room.

Hermione plopped on the sofa and absent mindedly picked up the heart pillow, placing it on her knee and started explaining. It was too rushed and fragmented to make any sense, so Severus held up a hand to stay her continued babbling. “Mr. Zabini,” was all he said.

“We came in to Potter half on top of Hermione, shoving his tongue down her throat and her crying and trying to push him off.” He looked at his head of house with understanding. “Lucky we came in when we did.”

“I could have stopped him,” Hermione huffed from the sofa.

Three sets of angry eyes shot to her. “Where’s your wand, Miss Granger?” Severus asked.

She pursed her lips. “In my bag,” she snapped.

They looked around. “Where’s your bag?” Draco asked.

Her lips disappeared. “In my room,” she mumbled.

“Ah ha. Well, that’s a great place for it, Granger,” Blaise commented.

“Right,” Severus added.

“Do you wish to share the recent incident with your Head of House?” Severus asked, angry that he’d been correct about the Potter boy.

 _Incident_ , she thought. _It sounded so… tawdry._

She sighed and her breath hitched. “Why?” she asked, her voice was soft and young. They knew she wasn’t asking why she should report, but more, why her?

Draco felt his chest contract in sympathy and his mind reared with anger. He’d seen people turn against each other; enough to last a lifetime, but never once did his true friends betray him in that way. Blaise, Theo, Adrian, and even Marcus had all looked out for one another.

Severus sat down beside her and sighed. He made a small movement, and it was enough for Hermione to accept as an invitation. She leaned forward and hugged him tightly, sniffling and hiccupping. “He’s not my friend, is he?” she mumbled into his wet shoulder.

“No. He’s obsessed and it will only get worse. He’s got a piece of the Dark Lord still inside of him.”

Hermione’s head snapped up. Severus shook his head. “Not a Horcrux, but a residual evil from the Horcrux; a memory, if you will. It taints him and preys on his insecurities.”

“What insecurities could he have about me? I stuck with him the whole way! I never left his side!”

“His arrogance. He is the boy-who-lived, Miss Granger, and you told him no. You rejected him out of loyalty for another, I suspect.” Hermione was no longer crying and she looked more curious than anything. Severus decided that this was just about all the emotion he could handle and stood. “I trust you’ll refrain from trying to save him and keep Mr. Zabini, Mr. Malfoy, or your Mr. McClaggen with you outside of school hours.”

She looked at her co-head and his best friend… _her_ friends and nodded after they indicated that they would be there for her. She also blushed at Severus’ ‘your Mr. McClaggen’ comment.

**OoO**

Severus left shortly after and Blaise and Draco sat with her in the front room, all three studied quietly. There were short discussions on essays and parchment due, but otherwise, the three studiously read their assignments.

Hermione headed off to bed after Draco stumbled out of the common room half asleep. Blaise caught her before she entered her room. “Hermione, are you alright?” he asked, his face serious.

She smiled at him and nodded. “I will be. Just… I just need to sleep.”

He nodded and walked into his room, which was directly across from hers.


	4. Cormac, oh Cormac

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

Morning came quickly for Hermione. She was now two days away from her debut.   She was both excited and terrified. She had an appointment for a final fitting this afternoon.

Taking a long shower and wrapping herself in a large fluffy towel, she stood in front of an enlarged mirror observing herself. The towel wasn’t showing her anything, so she unhooked the front and it dropped to the floor.

Turning this way and that, she scrutinized her naked form. Her skin was slick still from the shower. Small framed and slender, her legs were toned and shapely. Her stomach was flat and her waist had a nice hour glass shape. Hermione had seen her dorm mates nude before and sometimes wished her breasts were rounder, but she decided with finality that the full tear-drop shape of hers were just fine.

Her eyes were drawn to a thin white slightly jagged scar running across her stomach. It was three years old and hadn’t healed completely. It was from the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. Dolohov had caught her from the side, but she hadn’t fallen. She’d returned his curse, with one of her own. It caught him square in the chest and he had fallen. She had kept running. It wasn’t until they’d returned to Grimmauld Place that Mrs. Weasley had screamed that she was bleeding.

**OoO**

A knock at the door made Blaise frown. It was early yet and the only one who came at this time was Draco, but he knew the password.

The portrait smirked and looked at him. “Mr. McClaggen is at the door, Mr. Zabini. Shall I let him in?”

Blaise had heard the showers turn off and knew Hermione would be out soon. He looked back at the loo door. “Yes,” he said.

Cormac walked in, scowling at the portrait. He stopped short when he saw that the Head boy was standing in the center of the room, legs shoulder width apart and arms crossed over his broad chest. It was mildly defensive posture, one that told Cormac that if he made one wrong move, he would deal with Blaise. It dawned on Cormac that Zabini was protecting Hermione and felt jealousy rush through him.

“McClaggen,” Blaise said in greeting.

“Zabini.”

Silence. The two wizards stared each other down, waiting for the inevitable ‘blink’.

Blaise felt his stomach grumble, not loud enough for anyone to hear, but he felt it. He decided that this alpha game they were playing was not worth him missing breakfast. “What can I help you with, McClaggen?”

“I’m to walk Granger to breakfast.”

Blaise quirked an eyebrow, and repeated, “You’re to walk Granger to breakfast? Did you take this duty upon yourself or were you directed to do so?”

After a moment’s pause, Cormac answered honestly, choosing not to irritate the quiet Slytherin. He knew that Zabini and Hermione were friends. “Both.”

Right as Cormac answered, the door opened and Draco entered asking questions about the Transfigurations essay due. Draco stopped midsentence to look at Cormac. “What’re you doing here?”

Blaise smirked. “He’s here for Hermione. He’s to walk her to breakfast.” Blaise’s voice was full of mirth with a glint in his eyes that spoke of mischief.

Draco’s confused expression turned into a seductive grin. “Where is she?” Draco asked, seeing the steam rise from under the loo door.

Cormac did not like the expressions the Slytherins wore and the mood had changed from combative to sneaky all too quickly.

“In the loo doing something with that bird’s nest she calls hair,” Blaise quipped, moving to pick up his books.

Draco jutted his chin. “You should hurry her along. Don’t want to miss breakfast.”

Cormac wasn’t sure he wanted to trust Draco Malfoy, the wizard who’d led him astray the last time, but he felt his legs moving of their own accord.   He reached the door and heard nothing. Pausing, he looked back at the two smug-looking wizards, who looked like they were waiting for something, and turned the knob.

Draco and Blaise walked out of the common room snickering like girls. Cormac would either be hexed or be forgiven and there was the possibility of him being shagged senseless by a passionate witch.

Time stood still as his eyes met the naked skin of his dream witch. Pretty feet connected to feminine ankles inclined into the loveliest pair of legs he’d ever seen. Her legs ended in softly rounded hips, a perfectly shaped bum, sloping towards the small of her back. His mind vaguely registered the fact that that her fingers had stopped tracing a scar that he longed to run his tongue over.

Her breasts were a wizard’s fantasy, so plump and pert. As his eyes lifted to meet her eyes, his brain caught up and the slow motion of the world suddenly spun in hyper speed.

**OoO**

Hermione heard the door and was about to yell a curse for Blaise or Draco to shut the door or else, but when the tall sandy-blond wizard appeared seemingly struck silent as he watched her with those oceanic eyes, she stopped and stared back at him. Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror.

It was surreal, the way his eyes roamed her body. She thought that she should feel embarrassed, but she felt beautiful, the way he was looking at her. Her mind quickly rationalized that he was a teenaged boy, but she didn’t care at the moment.

She knew this was all wrong. They hadn’t even had a civil conversation much less a date, and she wasn’t even certain he fancied her. Hermione knew she should pick up the towel and cover herself, but her limbs weren’t working at the moment.

When her mind made the decision to end this trance, she felt the signal from her brain to the rest of her body rush through her nerves.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted as if she was about to scream.

Cormac straightened. “Sorry, Hermione, I just ah… I just-“

Her eyes narrowed and she bent quickly to grab the towel. “You were just about the get out and shut the door!” she hissed.

Cormac slammed the door shut after he murmured a quick apology.

His heart was racing and he stood next to the door breathing heavy, as if he’d played a full quarter of Quidditch. He lifted his eyes just in time to catch the head boy and his snickering friend, bolt out the door in a whirl of smug expressions and fear of retribution by head girl.

 _What they should fear is him. The next time I see those two prats, I will make sure they know who they’re dealing with_! He thought vindictively.

The door behind him clicked and Hermione walked out fully clothed and avoiding eye contact.

Cormac turned to her and opened his mouth to apologize, but she stopped him by shaking her head. “I know they sent you in there. I’m sorry for that. They’ll pay for it later.”

He smirked, but then wondered why she was apologizing to him. He frowned. “I should apologize to you.”

“You _should_?” she asked, wondering why he used that particular phrasing.

He nodded and then shrugged. “But I can’t, because you’re stunning and I’ll be dreaming of that moment forever.” He said the last part in a whisper, but she heard it clearly. It was supposed to offend her. His confident almost arrogant delivery of how he viewed her body, but all she felt was her chest swell and a beaming smile just under the surface. Hermione fought hard to keep it from bursting forth.

“You thought I was pretty?” she asked and then wanted to kick herself for actually voicing the question.

“No.”

Her face fell a bit and embarrassment colored her cheeks, but before she could turn away, he elaborated, “Beautiful.”

The aroma of sweet masculinity swept by her as he moved forward. His nearness made her want to take her clothes back off.

Cormac wanted to kiss her with the way she was looking at him. Doe eyes, full lips, a swan-like neck; she was exquisite.

Cormac shifted for a moment, then motioned to the door. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

She nodded, speechless. He nodded in response, but neither moved from their spot.

Clearing his throat, he asked, “Do you have your book bag, or…?”

Hermione jumped to get her things, whirling around entering her room. When she was out of sight and rumbling through her things, Cormac let out a long breath. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it, but there it was.

He wanted her.

Without thinking about what he was doing, he walked into her room, turned her around to face him and met his lips with hers. It was soft, tentative at first. He swallowed her gasp of surprise. Hermione tensed for a moment then relaxed into his embrace, moving her hands to grip his biceps.

His lips were soft and coaxing, and she wanted to feel the wetness of his tongue. Opening her mouth, he took the opportunity and swept his tongue across her bottom lip and then slid it across her tongue. The sensation made them both moan.

As the kiss deepened, Cormac’s large hands travelled down to her thighs, lifting her in one smooth motion.   Before either of them knew it, his hands were cupping her bottom, her hands were carded and fisted in his hair and their tongues were battling for dominance.

Wanting friction, he walked to her bed and laid her down, so he could press himself against her. He didn’t expect her to buck her hips in reaction. As they humped slowly, sensually, and kissed, he nuzzled her neck and whispered, “Let me make you come, love. I want to hear you, see you…”

Still humping, she gasped, “I- I – still a- haven’t… you know,” she growled as he hit the right spot.

Slowing the pace, he responded, “A virgin?” His head up to see her.

She nodded, and pulled his face down for another mind-searing kiss.

Cormac’s hand was now kneading one of her breasts, making her arch her back. “Let me taste you,” he commanded. This time his confident delivery gave her goose flesh and made her stomach flip-flop.

She didn’t have time to answer as he was already making his way down between her legs. Not averting his eyes from hers, he pushed up her school skirt, and gently parted her thighs, revealing a pair of white lace knickers. He quirked an eyebrow at her. Hermione shrugged. “I feel pretty when I wear them.”

Something akin to a growl of pleasure came from his chest as he pushed aside the lingerie and stroked her slit. Kissing up her inner thighs, he lifted her leg with his other hand and placed it squarely on his shoulder.

Hermione would have been embarrassed at the complete exposure, but his lips on her sensitive skin and his strong fingers lightly stroking her up and down, were making her want to scream. She just wanted to feel his mouth on her.

Finally, his mouth was there. She could feel the breath warm from his mouth. In one swift and surprising move, he ripped the lacy scrap of material from her body and shoved them in his pocket. On the verge of objecting, she was silenced by his tongue delving inside of her, then circling her clit. “Such a pretty pussy you have, love.”

Hermione clenched and Cormac chuckled. “You like the dirty words, yes?” he teased, leaning in and sucking her swollen labia. “I want to fuck you so bad right now, but I’ll have to sate my hunger with eating you raw.” With that, Hermione’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and Cormac leaned in to devour her.

The slurping sounds and cool-hot sensations gave her a very intense tingling sensation. “Oh, Cormac, yes! I feel like… Oh, oh, oh.”

Holding her hips in place while he licked her sucked her and nibbled at her, he knew she was going to come. “Yes, come in my mouth, love. Do it!” he hissed as she fell apart and flooded his mouth with her essence.

 

 

 


	5. Where am I?

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

It wasn’t awkward, only happy. Her smile made him smile as they entered the Great Hall together; her with her book bag and him with squared shoulders, carrying two hard cover books in his hand by his side.

 

Hermione’s eyes looked straight ahead, her focus on not giggling like mad at her euphoric mood. Her brown eyes inevitably met three sets of eyes; two twinkling pair at the Slytherin table and one ominous pair green ones at her own Gryffindor table. The latter pulled her mood down from the clouds and set it squarely back into reality.

 

Cormac hadn’t noticed Harry watching the couple closely; he was paying attention to bench space with enough room to fit both Hermione and himself comfortably close. He guided her to a spot near Seamus and Dean, motioning for her to sit first then sliding in after her.

 

Cormac pushed a cup filled with pumpkin juice her way and waited until she began filling her plate before he took preparations to fill his belly. He furrowed his brow briefly at her silence, but figured that she was as hungry as he. After smelling his fingers nonchalantly and smirking at the scent of her, he loaded a forkful of bangers and mash, and ate.

 

**oOo**

 

Harry was fuming. He knew. There was something in the way that Hermione was smiling; the way that she walked so closely to Cormac. Harry watched as Cormac made sure she was cared for before him. He watched as Cormac lifted his fingertips to just under his nose and grinned like a loon.

 

“Harry?” It was Luna. She was looking at him with those strange blue eyes of hers. The way they looked through him and not at him.

 

“What?” he snapped.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Harry inhaled loudly through his nose and set to eating again. “Yes.” He could see from his periphery that Luna’s face turned to follow his line of sight.

 

“How are you this morning, Hermione?” Luna asked, making Harry stiffen.

 

Hermione’s eyes shot to Harry; she glared at him before she answered with a smile.

“Better than ever, Luna. And you? How are you this morning?”

 

“I’m okay. I think I’d be better if…” She paused a little too long.

 

“If?” Hermione asked, watching the ethereal blonde closely.

 

Seemingly having made a decision, Luna turned to Harry. “If you and I were no longer seeing each other. I’d like to be single.”

 

Cormac stopped chewing, Seamus and Dean stopped talking, and Hermione was fighting a proud smile. Harry, however, hadn’t taken that statement well. He stood and looked to be moving towards his wand when Severus and Minerva both stood and called, “Mr. Potter!” at the same time, effectively silencing the entire Hall.

 

Harry sharply looked at the Professor’s table and clenched his jaw. Nodding once, he stepped from behind the long dining table and left the room.

 

Hermione reached her hand to Luna. The other witch sighed with relief and grasped the extended hand in friendship.

 

Minerva and Severus shared a look.

 

Severus sat; Minerva tapped her glass to get the student’s attention. “Please continue your meals then get to your classes.”

 

Chatter soon dissolved the silence along with the clinks and clatter of dishware. The topics of discussion were solely on the declared savior’s behavior.

**oOo**

 

The morning went on and classes continued as usual. Harry was quiet for most of the instruction. But those were the classes he attended with Ron, and not Hermione; Auror requirements.

 

The first class of the afternoon was Charms; Slytherin and Gryffindor. It was a NEWT level class. Everyone would attend.

 

Cormac had watched Harry in the morning with a keen eye; not only had Cormac seen the look on the Seeker’s face as they walked back from the pick-up Quidditch game, but Professor Snape had described Potter as ‘unstable’. Cormac had taken it all in, nodding and breathing. Snape had watched with his dark eyes piercing through Cormac’s thoughts, or so it felt like. Cormac didn’t think Snape was an alarmist, so he had responded with, “I will ensure her safety, sir.”

 

Snape’s lips were drawn into a thin line; thinner than usual. “I’m sure you will, Mr. McLaggen.” The tall man then spun on his heel seemingly satisfied with Cormac’s response, and with robes billowing, strode down the steps towards the dungeons.

 

Hermione wasn’t at lunch, which made Cormac panic a bit, but he relaxed when he saw Harry nodding to something Weasley was saying. If Potter was here, Hermione was safe.

 

Cormac was interrupted by an unexpected visit from the Slytherin table; two wizards with who Cormac had a bone to pick.

 

“McLaggen,” Draco greeted curtly; his grey eyes glaring at Harry Potter.

 

Cormac quirked an eyebrow. His eyes bounced from Blaise’s to Draco’s to Potter’s.

 

“Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth and returning to face his plate.

 

Draco was still glaring at Potter and Blaise was getting impatient. “We should talk, McLaggen,” Blaise said, breaking the tension. Draco’s focus returned to Cormac, nodding. A heartbeat later, just after Cormac scraped the last of his lunch off his plate, chewed and swallowed, the tall muscled wizard pushed away from the table and stood.

 

Blaise smirked, swearing he could hear the female population swoon and sigh at the sight he was certain they made. His indigo orbs met the stormy grey of Draco’s and oceanic blue-green of Cormac’s and they all wore the same arrogant expressions. They were all thinking the same thing.

 

Cormac inhaled briefly, puffing out his chest and motioning with his chin that they should walk in order to speak privately.

 

The three walked confidently out, knowing the sultry eyes of the majority of witches were following them closely.

 

Out in the hallway, they continued to walk in silence, still arrogant, but now posturing as only alpha males can around other alphas.

 

Blaise, again, feeling impatient, spoke first. “Hermione was attacked last night.”

This effectively had Cormac halting abruptly and turning to Blaise with fire in his eyes. Draco held up a hand to stay the impending explosion. “It was Potter,” Draco said.

 

Before any further explanation could be had, Cormac had broken through the middle of the two Slytherins and began his quick return to the Great Hall to break Potter in half… physically. He was stopped rather forcefully by said Slytherins. “You can’t, Cormac. She didn’t want us to say anything to anyone, but we thought you should know.” It was Blaise again.

 

“What happened?” Cormac struggled to ask. He was livid.

 

Draco leaned against the wall, guilt apparent on his normally stoic presentation. “We left her for dinner. We weren’t gone long, but in our absence, Potter visited her.”

 

Blaise picked up where Draco left off. “When we walked in, Hermione was struggling and crying, while Potter was…”

 

“Was what?” Cormac asked, fists clenched, barely restraining his rage.

 

“Was groping her and shoving his tongue down her throat,” Draco finished.

 

“I pulled him off of her and punched him. Draco consoled her-“

 

Cormac’s eyes shifted sharply to Draco. “Consoled?”

 

Draco smirked and squared his shoulders. “A comforting hug, a kiss…”

 

Cormac stood straighter, but before he could pummel Draco, Blaise stepped in front of him, but shot an exasperated glance at his best mate. “On the cheek, McLaggen. Just on the cheek.” The dark wizard smirked a second later. “When she recovered, she hexed him.”

 

“Twice,” Draco added, making Cormac smirk, too.

 

“Speaking of Witch Wonder, where is she?” Draco asked. This made Cormac frown. He hadn’t seen her since this morning. The memory made him smile a bit and lift his fingers to his lips. When he returned to reality a moment later, it was met with knowing expressions and raised eyebrows.

 

Just as they were going to go look for Hermione, a familiar face came silently walking up the hall. Professor saw the three and grimaced inwardly. _More questions._

 

“Gentlemen,” he greeted with a nod, but kept walking, hoping they would just leave him be. No such luck.

“Professor Snape, sir, where is Hermione? Is- Is she alright?” Draco asked, hoping she wasn’t frightened in some delayed response to Potter’s attack.

 

Severus knew that Hermione had informed them of her activities. He looked at Draco and Blaise. “You are attending the ballet with your parents tonight, are you not?” They both nodded and Severus waited for the penny to drop. When he saw the light of recognition, he turned to Cormac, who was frowning. “My mum doesn’t like the ballet.”

 

Clearly, the boy wanted to attend. Severus opened his mouth to speak, but Zabini beat him to it. “I have an extra ticket. Mum gives me one just in case I stumble upon my future bride and decide to take her.” This statement had the wizards chuckling.

 

Severus nodded. “Miss Granger will be indisposed the remainder of the day. Mr. Malfoy, your father will arrive precisely at six o’clock to pick you up. Mr. Zabini, your mother will arrive at 6:15. Please ensure you are there to receive them.” With that, Severus walked away, pleased that he’d got away fairly unscathed.

 

**oOo**

 

Harry knew why they were there. The two prats were going to tell the other prat that he’d kissed Hermione; his closest friend for nearly ten years. Harry knew that she just needed a little time to process the shift from friendship to _more_.

 

He practically snarled at Malfoy, but didn’t. He knew that they would twist what happened into something dark. He needed to speak with Hermione. She hadn’t complained to the Headmaster, and McGonagall hadn’t said anything to him, so Hermione hadn’t pressed the issue. That’s how Harry knew that she understood his feelings for her.

 

Still, he hadn’t seen her since breakfast when Loony had declared her independence. _Good riddance_ , he thought. He was free to pursue Hermione.

 

Cormac stood and led the way out of the Hall.

 

“What do you think they want, mate?” Ron asked, both boys watching the three.

Ron even made a sickly face when one of the third year Gryffindor witches sighed when the three passed. When Ron turned back to Harry, he was gone. Shrugging, Ron tucked in to his third helping of lunch.

 

Harry had quickly cast a Notice-Me-Not charm then pulled his Invisible Cloak around him. He followed them out and listened to their conversation.

It was just as he thought. Malfoy and Zabini had cast a dark shadow on the kiss Hermione and he shared.

_Such a drama queen_ , Harry thought as the two held Cormac back from marching back into the Hall. Struggling and crying they said. Hexed him they laughed. Harry could feel the anger boiling ready to spill over.

 

Professor Snape walked up and finally someone asked a relevant question: Where was Hermione?

 

Harry smiled when the ballet was mentioned. He watched closely as his potions professor looked ready to offer a ticket to McLaggen. Harry knew he would need that ticket to gain entry… he also needed dress robes and had a very short time to procure them.

 

Running back to the Common Room, he Floo-called help. “Mrs. Weasley!”

 

He could hear her rummaging around and humming. “Mrs. Weasley!”

 

“Oh, yes? Harry, dear! What a surprise. Is there anything wrong?”

 

“Mrs. Weasley, you have access to my Gringotts vault; would you purchase me some dress robes, please? I need them this afternoon. I’m going to the ballet,” he added excitedly.

 

“Of course, dear. What color is Luna wearing?”

 

Harry wasn’t expecting any questions about Luna, but decided it was easier to just answer favorably. “She didn’t say, so just black and white for me,” he lied.

 

“Good decision, Harry, can’t go wrong with that. I’ll meet you in Hogsmeade at four p.m. Alright, dear?

 

 

Relieved and eagerly anticipating seeing Hermione, he nodded. “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.” Now, he just had to sneak out of the castle, off the grounds and into the village, with no one being the wiser.

 

**oOo**

 

Hermione and the rest of the cast ran through one full rehearsal and then were given the four hours remaining to ‘eat light and rest up’; they expected standing room only.

 

After an hour of icing her knee and reading, Hermione got bored. She spent another hour thinking about what had happened that morning ( _a perfect start to the morning, by the way_ ), and what happened the previous evening. She was both angry with Harry and worried about him. If what Professor Snape hypothesized was true, then she felt that she needed to help him get through this. That decided, she knew that she didn’t want her desire to help him affect her judgment. She would ensure that they weren’t alone, again.

 

Once again, her mind returned to the picture of Cormac’s head in between her legs that morning. The remembered feeling had her rubbing her thighs together.

“Oi, Granger! What’re ye thinkin’ o’er ther’?” teased O’Grady, her male counter.

 

Hermione blushed, making him laugh, but didn’t answer.  She had ordered a small serving of salad and lobster ravioli earlier, and it had just arrived. She sat down with her dinner, parchment, and quill, and set to write a quick note to Cormac. She wanted him to know that she was thinking of him and hoped he didn’t think her clingy.

 

She paused before quill hit parchment; perhaps she could try her hand at written seduction; a bit of flirty text to make him smile.

 

**oOo**

 

Cormac flipped his wrist over once more; one more hour. His finger pulled against the tight collar.

 

“Stop fidgeting, McLaggen. Let’s go the Family Floo Room. We have 15 minutes until my mum meets us,” Blaise said.

 

Draco had just left to meet his father. They would all sit together for the ballet, along with Theo Nott. Severus Snape would sit with Blaise’s mum and the Malfoys.

 

Just as they moved towards the portrait door, a rolled parchment appeared with a pop just over Cormac’s head.

 

_~~Dear Cormac,~~ _

_~~McLaggen,~~ _

_I’m sitting here in a room full of people, but all I can think about is the feel of your tongue licking my pussy, your hot breath against my skin, your fingers gripping my thighs. The next time we are alone, I would like very much to suck your cock._

_Knees parted and waiting,_

 

Cormac came to an abrupt halt. His jaw had dropped a bit as he read her very naughty note. Once the shock wore off, he smiled. He would very much like her to suck his cock, too.

 

“Coming?” Blaise asked, impatiently.

 

“Not yet,” he replied, following Blaise through the hallway.

**oOo**

 

Harry had successfully obtained Snape’s extra ticket, and had met Mrs. Weasley in the village, jogging away having forgotten to thank her. He hadn’t heard her harrumph and mumble about manners, and how a mother’s work is ever taken for granted.

 

He’d changed into the dress robes in town then moved, under his invisibility cloak, to the Apparition point. Disapparting, he popped away, eagerly anticipating seeing his Hermione on stage; only magical objects are funny things. When an Invisibility Cloak’s magic is coupled with the magic it takes to Apparate, the result does not always meet the person’s expectations.

 

Harry opened his eyes to the sun shining too hotly that he couldn’t see for several moments. He met silence and heat and desert. _Where the fuck am I?_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Disclaimer: I own nothing._ **

 

Harry Disapparated and Luna stepped out from behind the corner, where she was watching. “That should keep him busy for a while then,” she said to the misted figure standing next to her.

“It shall I suspect, Miss Lovegood. Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome, Headmaster.” She slid her wand back into its holster and gave Albus Dumbledore’s ghost one last glance before she skipped into Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.

 

**oOo**

Hermione could hear the rumble of the audience through her door. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, calming her mind through the meditative breathing exercises that Professor Snape had taught her.

 

A voice brought her out of meditation. “Five minutes, Miss Granger.” It was a stagehand. She inhaled and nodded at the man. Wearing a pale pink leotard and tights, she walked to the hanging bar and donned the flowing white shift dress. The back had handkerchief’d pieces, so that when she moved quickly across the stage, it would billow behind her as if she had faerie wings. A ballerina’s barre was to her left. She took two minutes to stretch and then walked out, immediately to be scurried along to the stage entrance.

 

Hermione’s stomach had assembled a rabble of butterflies, and they were now taking flight as the orchestra began the first few notes of the score.

“Now, Hermione. Go! Go!”

 

The ballet’s focus was undeniably good versus evil; a plot that Hermione was overly familiar with.

 

Act I was the March of the Faeries and their princess. Its tone was an Allegro and left Hermione having to concentrate on controlling her breathing. The audience was silent; all she could hear was the clipped tones of the composition. Every once in a while she’d catch the exaggerated movements of the composer. The Act closed 40 minutes later with the curtain coming together and every one of the ballerina’s sagging with relief. Hermione looked up and smiled at the nearest ‘faerie’. The audience was loudly whistling and clapping and roaring with appreciation.

 

Act II was the conflict. An hour long, all-out ballet dance war between the dark faeries dressed in blood red, with painted black faces and the light.   Hermione was the light, dressed in pink and white, with a bit of sparkles on her skin and hair.

The second act put strain on her muscles, pushed her to her limits, and provoked a single-minded intensity to make her press her body harder. As she lie on the stage floor in seeming defeat, her chest rose and fell in rhythmic panting and sweat pouring from her temple.

The curtain closed once again to the uproar of the audience, the whistles, the shouting, the stomping.

 

Act III: The Finale.

From the ashes, like a Phoenix, The Faerie Princess rose to cast the darkness out and welcome peace. It lasted another half hour before the curtain’s closed. She stood with O’Grady, holding hands as the curtains opened and roses were tossed on stage as they took their bow. Walking backward, she stayed in place as, for the last time, the curtains closed then opened where she walked up alone to curtsy and blow kisses to her audience. That’s when she saw him; those blue-green eyes, staring at her with an intensity that took her breath away. He was standing and clapping, but his face was void of expression. It was such an extreme moment that she almost didn’t realize that he was walking towards her with a bouquet of at least 24 white roses. Hermione’s smile was beaming as she moved forward to bend down and receive them. Cormac smiled at her then and winked, handing her the roses with a stiff bow.

 

Giggling, she scanned the crowd once more, catching the eyes of Draco, Blaise, and Severus then traipsed off stage to her changing room.

 

There was champagne and cheer and accolades.

 

Hours later, Hermione sat quietly in her make up chair, smiling to herself. Everyone had left to attend the after party, but she had declined. She sent word to Severus that she wanted to return to Hogwarts and would he escort her. She checked her watch and was surprised to note that it was past midnight.

 

Severus cleared his throat after a moment of watching the solitary figure, who had literally, brought down the house. “Miss Granger, are you ready?”

 

Hermione turned and stood, wobbling slightly. Severus caught her and then offered his elbow. He would escort her like a gentleman. Smiling, she took his arm and let him lead her away.

 

oOo

They were all seated. One after the other, two half rows filled with acquaintances and friends.

There was chatter and laughter and greetings of long friends. There was energy and anticipation and a strange feeling of arrogance – the tickets were quite pricey. Cormac couldn’t seem to stop moving; his knee bounced rapidly, but when that got on Blaise’s nerves, Cormac transitioned to drumming his fingers. That ended by Draco slamming his fist down on Cormac’s hand and a fight nearly breaking out between the two. It was stopped, rather curtly, by both Professor Snape and Lucius Malfoy. Cormac nearly laughed at the elder Malfoy’s words of wisdom: “Do not make me come over there!” he’d hissed. Cormac thought it sounded a lot like his father, and wondered if all parents took the same class: ‘ _Parenting 101: One-liners_ ’.

Mr. Malfoy’s threat was followed by a stabbing of one stiff finger pointed their way. It was effective; both Draco and Cormac didn’t make a move after that.

All at once, the music began, the curtains opened and the stage came alive. Faeries were already on stage, coming out onto the stage from the corners, and then there was Hermione, his Hermione; she ran to the center of the Faeries with her ‘wings’ floating behind her, and curtsied to them all, in a circle. She straightened, brought her hands up in a ‘U’ and lifted her knee, while she spun in place. All the other faeries were bowed low to the ground. Cormac chuckled then; The Dance of the Faerie _Princess_. _Got it!_

 

He couldn’t breathe for the remainder of the ballet. All through Act I, he was silent and watching every move. He gripped the edge of the arm handles during Act II, so hard that the tips of his fingers were aching at its close. And Lucius did actually need to reach out to Draco and Cormac, thumping them on their heads with his cane, when they nearly pushed a waiter out of the way for standing for too long in their line of sight for Act III.

 

When all was said and done, Cormac and the rest of the audience had been enthralled by the performances. It was a beautiful ballet and Hermione was beautiful in it. Cormac conjured two dozen red roses to bring to her, but Blaise didn’t like red. “It’s too heavy, mate,” he’s said, and with a swish of his wand, they turned white.

 

He took them up to her and thought that her expression and how beautiful she looked at that moment, when she saw that it was him, would be burned into his brain forever.

 

oOo

 

Hermione and Severus arrived at the gates in silence. There were no words that Severus could, or would express that reflected how much he enjoyed the ballet and how proud he felt at calling the prima ballerina his friend.

 

As he dismantled the wards, the gates opened and he again offered his elbow for her to take. They halted in step at the sight before them; half of Slytherin, most of Gryffindor and a few select others from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were there clapping and cheering as they walked through. Hermione giggled and bowed her head with quiet thank you’s and burning red cheeks. Rose petals were tossed in the air over her head. She realized suddenly that Severus had stepped back to allow her the spotlight.

 

Blaise came up after a few minutes and embraced her. “You were spectacular, Hermione.”

Draco was next. “Absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much. I’m so glad you came.”

Theo Nott stepped forward and even though Hermione had only had any real interaction with him in the library, he bowed over her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You were great, Granger.”

Finally, the students began to disperse and her eyes starting scanning the dwindling crowd for a tall, sandy haired wizard. Her brown eyes ended their pursuit upon seeing the rather large half giant shifting from one foot to the other. He held two fully grown sunflowers in his hand.

Hagrid walked up to Hermione, trying in vain to ignore the scowling Professor Snape behind her, and presented the sunflowers to the witch. They were taller than she was and Severus snorted with humor.

 

Hermione didn’t know what to say, but she did smile and take the flowers. Hagrid didn’t leave or let her pass; he stood clearly wanting to speak, but also clearly not knowing how to start.

Hermione was bone tired, but waited patiently for Hagrid to say whatever he needed to say.

“’Ermione, I—tea… or a walk?”

Hermione saw from her periphery that Severus was shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.   She wanted to laugh, but she didn’t want to hurt Hagrid’s feelings. Clearing her throat, she opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by her Professor. “Another time, Hagrid.”

That was when Hagrid shocked them all. He stood straighter and pierced Severus with angry eyes. “No! A’ll say wha’ I came ta, P’fessor Sir!”

“Now, ‘Ermione, I’m … we…tea.”

Hermione nodded, and took his large hands in hers, but not before she fumbled around with the too-tall flowers he’d given her. “I’m flattered that you would like to have tea with me, but I really value your friendship and would prefer to… preserve it as is.”

An awkward silence followed, but she could see that her words were sinking in. He nodded and squeezed her hands then walked away.

Severus took the sunflowers from her and chuffed. “I’m impressed, Miss Granger-“

“Hermione,” she corrected.

Severus amended, “Hermione. That was very well done.”

She smiled and together they walked inside the castle.

He walked her to the tower to the portrait of the Heads dorm entrance and clipped his heels. “Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Severus.”

Hermione opened the door to half melted candles lighting the common room, white, pink, and red rose petals littering the floor, and Cormac, still dressed in his tuxedo asleep on the couch. The top button of his dress shirt was undone, with the tie hung loose on either side. The sleeves were rolled to his forearms and his black jacket draped over the arm of the chair near the fire.

She set her bag down and tip toed over to him, snuggling against his warmth. His arm immediately wrapped around her and he inhaled. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi. Is all this for me?”

His eyes glanced sideways at her. “No, it was for Blaise, but he didn’t appreciate my efforts.”

“Haha,” she paused a moment before kissing his shoulder, “Thank you. I love it.” That statement was followed by a hardy yawn.

“Hermione, I—You were wonderful. It was the most—just, superb. Really.”

His stumbling over the words to compliment her was endearing and she smiled. “We have a four week run, twice per week on Thursday and Saturday. At least NEWTs are done.”

Cormac nodded. “What are you doing after…?” His voice was soft and hesitant. He had been pining over this witch for nearly three years, and only just recently had become close to her. He didn’t want it to end.

“I was accepted into the London Ballet Company for a two year stint, but I wanted to attend University for Transfigurations. I don’t know if I could do both. You?”

He swallowed. “I was accepted to Salem University of Wizardry in the Americas.”

Hermione lifted her head and looked at him. “Curse breaking then?”

He nodded.

“Will you come back to London after?” she asked, laying her head back on his shoulder.

He shrugged, and then turned to face her. She looked at him curiously. His face was serious and his hands were gripping hers tightly. “I know that you’re the smartest witch of our age-“ Hermione rolled her eyes, but he stretched his lip at her and she gave him a nod to continue. “Do you have to dance here in London?”

That stopped her line of thinking; like hitting a brick wall. “Wait – What?”

Cormac harrumphed, and began to repeat himself, but she stopped him. “You mean go…”

“…to the Americas with me. You could audition and attend school. I’ll help you – not that you need academic help, but you know what I mean.”

Hermione’s eyes were wet with happy tears, and though she wasn’t an impulsive witch by nature, she thought this could work. They were both young and if it didn’t work out, she could transfer back here or where ever she wanted to go. “Alright.”

Cormac’s beautiful blue-green eyes widened and he smiled. “Alright?”

“Alright.”   She wasn’t expecting him to jump up and swing her around, but that’s what he did. Blaise walked in at that point and smiled. “I take she said yes?”

“You knew?!” Hermione said laughing and hugging Blaise just for the joy of the moment.

“I did. I’m happy for you, little witch. Now, off to bed with you. Cormac, go somewhere else.” Ever the protective co-Head, Blaise ordered everyone about and even watched as Cormac kissed Hermione softly and left.

Hermione could have floated up to her room.

Instead of sleeping right away, Hermione wrote a missive to her Master Instructor with her plans. He would know with whom to speak with for an audition.

**oOo**

Harry eventually found his way back, but decided that he’d had more than enough trauma in his life. He left wizarding England for a more calming and solitary life in South East Asia. No one had heard from him in a lifetime.

**oOo**

Cormac attended every ballet performance Hermione was in and some she wasn’t, with her by his side. They stayed in the Americas for three years then toured the world for another year. They set roots back in London to raise their child once Hermione and he found out they were pregnant. Cormac couldn’t have asked for a better wife and a better life.

Fifteen years later, Hermione and Cormac McLaggen made their way through Kings Cross Station with their daughter, Corinne Hermione McLaggen. “Best to just make a run for it,” Hermione told her daughter.

 

As Cormac watched his daughter run through the wall that would lead them to the Wizarding part of London, visions flashed through his mind of their life up until now.

It had been a particularly trying day and he’d been feeling frustrated at the lack of progress he’d made on his project for the term. Arriving home, he began looking for food; banging cabinets and roughly treating the water faucet. Hermione entered the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his waist, rubbing her cheek to the middle of his back. “You okay?”

He tensed. He wanted her, always wanted her, but they hadn’t yet.   He didn’t think he would be able to control himself today. “Hermione,” he sighed. “Not a good time, love.”

 

Her small hands slid down his stomach and settled briefly on his belt buckle. “Hermione,” he warned.

 

“Hmmmm?” she purred, pressing her breasts against his shoulder blades.

“I c-can’t,” he stuttered as her nimble fingers deftly unbuckled the trousers and unzipped the fly.

“I want,” was all she said. Her declaration spurned his growl. He lifted her roughly, causing her to squeal and giggle, and took her to their bedroom. Kicking open the door, he marched over to the bed and laid her down. He whispering a quick spell; he wanted to see her. Hermione gasped at the instant coolness as it hit her skin.

 

Cormac stood still, looking at her, _seeing_ her. “You’re beautiful.” His large hand splayed across her naked stomach, inching lower to her bare mons. He’d tasted her thousands of times, but this time was different. He would be in her; they would be one.

Looking up at her, he questioned, “You’re sure?”

Hermione looked exasperated for a split second before she sighed, “Oh yes.”

She panted, hoping he wouldn’t abandon the orally satisfying experience she’d grown accustomed to; he didn’t.

Spreading her legs farther apart, he leaned in to scrape his teeth gently across her clit. She was mewling and carding her fingers through his thick hair as he brought her higher and higher. It was a matter of seconds before she was screaming his name. Before her body stopped spasming, he positioned himself in between her legs and pushed inside. Hermione’s body bowed and her eyes popped open.

His cock pulsed, but he didn’t move yet. Her body adjusted to his size, but she hadn’t started breathing yet. “Hermione,” he gritted out.

“Move, Cormac.”

Relieved, he pulled out slowly then pushed back inside, glorying in the feel of her tight path. She was wet and tight and hot and he knew that he’d never get tired of this. She was his. She was his forever.

Hermione’s hips started to move with his, meeting his every thrust. She opened her legs wider and used her feet to push off the bed. Her hands were frantically massaged his shoulders and he was snogging the living daylights out of her.

Every time he pushed back in, his pelvis hit her clit and the friction and the stretch and the kissing was all too much. Her thighs began to shake and their tongues danced out of rhythm. His movements were now furious and erratic, their lips were barely meeting, but their cheeks were touching and their mouths were still moving as though they were still meeting.

“Hermione, I’m… I need to-“

“Yes!” she yelled as her entire body shook from her orgasm. It was rapture.

He followed her soon after. Stars and darkness clouded his brain. He was almost certain that he blacked out, so intense was his climax.

Sweating and panting, lying there, reveling in the feeling of having sex and loving each other and knowing that each felt the same.

“I love you,” he breathed.

 

Cormac’s mind flashed to when he surprised her with a ring and proposed marriage. It was after one of her performances. The Ballet Company Master allowed him time after the show, and while the audience was still applauding, to walk on to the stage and kneeling in front of her. Hermione had been stunned. As the roses came flying from the audience, and as her fellow ballerinas gathered in close to hear his question, Hermione started crying and nodding her head even before he asked.

 

Cormac had laughed at her and said, “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”

It made her and everyone else laugh, but in that next moment, he asked, “Will you marry me, love?”

They’d married six months later on a beach in Italy, courtesy of one Blaise Zabini – it was his beach.

Hermione and Cormac followed through the wall and walked in the middle of the chaos that was parents waving good bye to their children; owls and cats and rats and carts and flying luggage, it was all too familiar.

Hermione’s hair blew in the breeze, and his mind jumped again.

They’d gone hiking in Guatemala, and were sitting on a mesa looking in awe at the beautiful mountainous view. He took a bite of his meal and almost choked on it the next moment.

“I’m pregnant,” she’d announced casually. It took him a moment to process all of the ramifications of what she’d just said. “Pass the fruit salad, please.”

It was said with the hint of a smile and he still couldn’t seem to get it together enough to breathe normally.

Finally, he reacted. “I’m pregnant, pass the fruit salad?!!! That’s how you tell me I’m to be a father? That- that- that we’re to be parents?” He was going to hyperventilate.

Hermione just nodded and kept her eyes on the view all the while fighting the urge to smile.

He’d tackled her then. Laying her flat on the ground, careful not to put pressure on her stomach. “Really?”

 

Wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss, she answered. “Yes, really. You’re going to be a father, Cormac. I’m going to be a mum.” The tears were shed by both as they celebrated by making love on the mountain top, alone… together.

“Cormac?” It was the love of his life.

 

He looked at her and pulled her into an embrace. She looked to be close to crying. “It’s okay, love. She’ll be okay.”

 

They hugged and Hermione thought this was as good a time as any. “Cormac?” “Hmmmm?”

 

“I’m pregnant; pass the fruit salad.”

 

The end.

 

 


End file.
